Amy Lu's View

Happy “I Don’t Respect My Pets Personal Space Day” (officially known as National Love Your Pet Day). 

Or perhaps I should call it “My Pets Won’t Cooperate When I Want to Take Selfies With Them Day.” 

Of course every day is Love Your Pet Day. We love them in all their adorableness and weirdness, every day.

And not to sell our cats short when it comes to weirdness, or discount the weirdness of any of our previous pets, but StanLee seems particularly “quirky.” He is the puppy who has three “carry around sticks,” because he doesn’t chew his rawhide chew sticks but rather carries them about from room to room, burying them in our bed or “his office” futon, or dropping them in chairs, on the floor, etc. 

He has had one of these carry around sticks for at least two years. And it’s not because he has any qualms about chewing–he IS the puppy who graced our bookcase with permanent teeth marks, who loves to chew running socks–expensive running socks. Rather, he understands the adage that you can’t have your cake (chew stick) and eat (chew) it, too, 

Every time StanLee has received a new stick, he whines because (we think) he loves it so much that he just can’t stand it. He also (we think) deems the chew sticks so awesome and impressive that he will often get one to show off to a dog he sees passing by our bay window, and will also hide the stick after the display so no interloper dog can get it. 

I could go on and on about all the peculiar and silly and cute things StanLee does, as well as the antics of Pepper and Sprout, but since I’m blogging every day I’m giving myself permission to keep things short…and these anecdotes may need to be saved for future blogging. 

Every day is Love Your Pet Day, with the heartache being that there just aren’t enough days that we have with our pets to love them. Of course, we still love every pet we’ve ever had, even when they are no longer with us. But I WILL NOT GET MAUDLIN! I will just be grateful that we currently have three healthy, silly, annoying, adorable pets right now. 

I love them even if they resist my attempts at social media worthy photography. 

I think we occasionally had to do tug of wars in elementary school. I don’t think I liked it. 

I don’t clearly remember because it would have been a long time ago, and if it did happen, it didn’t happen with the frequency or terror of volleyball (which also lasted through high school). Maybe I just saw enough movies with tug of war scenes that I think I actually participated in them. 

I even think my dad might have participated in community tug of wars, but again, that may just be a memory of a movie. 

What I do know, on this Tug of War Day, is that as a teenager I intently listened to Paul McCartney’s album “Tug of War.” 

The album came out in 1982, but I probably didn’t hear it until 1985ish, after I became a huge Paul fan because of his duet “Say, Say, Say” with Michael Jackson. I think I checked the record out (multiple times) from the Eau Claire public library. 

The album is probably most notable for the song “Here Today,” Paul’s beautiful tribute to John Lennon. It also has “Take it Away” which I always loved and I can still remember hearing on the radio one morning while getting ready for school in my very orange bedroom. I’m pretty sure “Take it Away” introduced me to the word “impresario,” although in a pre-internet world it was years before I figured out what the word was and what it meant. 

Thinking about this song and album encouraged me to finally crack open the copy of the book “The Lyrics” by Paul that I received as a much appreciated Christmas gift from my sister-in-law. Luckily, “Tug of War” was included in the book. Paul’s big insight was that many people thought the song was about his relationship with John, and although he wasn’t thinking about that when he wrote it, he could certainly see how people thought that, especially because of the lyric “But with one thing and another we were trying to outscore each other in a tug of war.” 

The song “Tug of War” strikes me as quintessential Paul–beautiful and goofy and affecting. When Paul sings “In the years to come, they may discover, what the air we breathe and the life we lead are all about,” I’m all at once that young person filled with optimism and the much older person who still wants to be optimistic but thinking out how in all the years that have come since I first heard this song, they/we/I really haven’t figured out very much. (I also think about how we knew/know what air is all about so that’s a pretty silly line. For me, being a Paul fan is a constant tug of war between thinking “Oh my god this song, his voice, is so beautiful” and “Ouch, that lyric is cringey.”)

It may seem surprising that I’m writing about Tug of War Day, but today didn’t give me much to work with. Presidents’ Day was way too hard. I’m not interested in furniture sales right now, and the whole thought of the upcoming presidential election fills me with terror. And maybe hope. But back to terror. 

Maybe there is a connection between Tug of War Day and Presidents’ Day after all. 

It’s National Drink Wine Day. 

Or, to use one of Chad’s favorite comic chestnuts, for me, it’s a day that ends with a “y”. 

Yes, I do like drinking wine. I also know that drinking less wine, and less alcohol of any kind, is a good idea for me, and I am working on that. So as I celebrate National Drink Wine Day, it’s in the “spirit” of appreciating it more, but drinking less of it. (Drinking “less” still gives me quite a bit of space for drinking). 

Even though I really like wine, and have for many years, I’m an enthusiast, but not an expert. No one would ever confuse me with a sommelier (which is convenient, because I can’t spell the word without Googling it). Years ago, when my sister-in-law had “red wine glasses” on her Christmas list, I thought she literally wanted glasses that were the color red. 

Now I know, or think I know, that the size and shape of the glass has some impact on the flavor of wine. Bigger glasses are better for bringing out the flavor of red wine–and not just “convenient” because they require fewer refills. Occasionally I flirt with the idea of aerating my wine, but usually I can’t be bothered.  

They’re not classy, but I do have my wine preferences. I usually prefer red, but I won’t turn down a white, and warm weather definitely puts me in a white wine mood (although I don’t like my white wine too chilled). I usually go for cabs and red blends, but am up for almost anything. If I had a taste test I don’t think I could tell the difference between a shiraz, tempranillo, zinfandel, etc. Malbecs are a go-to because Chad likes them as well and I like how the name sounds. I do tend to avoid pinot noirs because cheap ones (like I tend to buy) can taste weak and disappointing. I like red wines that I think would be described as bold and fruity (although not sweet) so I’m not ashamed to have merlot. 

When ordering at a bar or restaurant, I often get the house wine or the cheapest wine, because I’m just not that discerning. How cheap is cheap? I rarely buy a bottle of wine that costs more than $10 (it has to be a really special occasion) but I get nervous if it’s below $6. I don’t have any qualms about boxed wine, and boxes are a better choice for the environment (wine bottles are environmentally problematic), but boxes of wine aren’t always a good choice for me. I like the visual cue that a bottle of wine provides–the easy way to see how much I’ve had. I also like buying a variety of wine and picking out wine based on the labels. Fun names and/or colorful and artistic labels make me happy. 

I never worry about pairing wine and food–taking the same approach that I do to fashion, decorating, socializing, and blogging, I just hope that if I like all the individual elements, they’ll all work well together. And I don’t think anyone would argue with me that most wine pairs well with chips. 

Scene: Chad and I sitting at the bar at a local drinking establishment, late Saturday afternoon

Me: Yeah, I want to blog when I get home…but I can’t really celebrate Random Acts of Kindness Day.

Chad: Because “f*#k these people?”

Me: No, because who am I going to be kind to? I don’t really see anybody but you and randomly being kind to your spouse doesn’t really seem to fit…I did try to be extra nice to you earlier this week when I lost my phone. 

Chad: That was just you trying to minimize how much trouble you were in.

Me: Oh…well, I wasn’t mean to anybody at the gym today! Although no one was blocking the running lane. But I was nice, or at least not bitchy, to the woman who was in my way in the locker room. 

Chad: Well there, now your blog post is written. 

Me: But aren’t you sick of me blogging about you?

Chad: You haven’t violated any boundaries, and I really don’t give your blog that much thought.

End Scene

Seriously, can you believe that Chad and I don’t have a podcast? Or that I haven’t written a play yet? Although I will admit, I have had alcohol-fueled dreams of turning my blog into a one-woman Fringe show. 

I like almonds. It’s National Almond Day. I bought some almonds at Cub today and ate them. Yay!

Sometimes celebrations are simple. 

Sometimes an arbitrary self-assigned blog post topic doesn’t give one much to work with. 

The most interesting aspect of my attempt to write about almonds is how little I have to say. Almonds don’t inspire any tangents or uncover any almonds related memories. 

I could try to expand this post by building up the only narrative tension for this post I can conjure –I had to struggle with the decision over which flavor of almonds to buy today. I can also admit that I did not go to Cub on a mission to buy almonds for Almond Day, I just happened to be on an emergency yogurt mission, saw the almonds at the checkout counter, and thought “Hey, I could buy some and get a selfie with them for my National Almond Day post.”

Maybe there’s something beautiful about something that can just be enjoyed and considered at face value. (Face value as long as I just consider my personal reactions and ignore ethical questions related to the environmental impact of almonds).

Maybe sometimes I am tired and want to give up on a post and just go to bed. 

I really realized that there are differences between Wisconsin and Minnesota when I learned that deep fried cheese curds are a “special” state fair food in Minnesota. 

Don’t get me wrong–I think deep fried cheese curds are special in the sense that they’re amazing, but growing up in Wisconsin, they were a common source of awesomeness. Fried  cheese curds were widely available at most dining/drinking establishments and outlets, and we didn’t have to wait for a yearly celebration to enjoy them. (In the past twenty-five years Minnesota has evolved in its deep fried cheese curd availability and they are much more ubiquitous than they used to be). 

Stereotypes are often rooted in reality, and on this National Wisconsin Day, I’m celebrating how I embrace my Wisconsin heritage, although sometimes with my own twist. 

The two main “I’m from Wisconsin” boxes I check: I love cheese and drinking. However, in an effort to lower calorie consumption, I try to avoid cheese as an entree, and I do often have faux cheese, which may sometimes be slightly more ethical. And beer is not my alcohol of choice. (I don’t eat brats anymore, but they should definitely be cooked in beer). 

Since I’m a fan of non-beer alcohol, it makes sense to assume that I’m into brandy Old-Fashioneds, the way Wisconsinites are known to make them and enjoy them. I’m certainly not opposed to that, but I can’t claim it’s because I’m from Wisconsin, as I knew nothing about cocktails when I was a youth growing up there. (In addition to the legendary Bloody Marys I loved at the bar The Joynt, the only “cocktails” I drank were Long Island Iced Teas, which I don’t really think count as cocktails but college kid booze delivery concoctions.)

And I am not a Packers fan. Insert gasp here. Maybe even a swoon. But that’s not because I’m anti-Packers, but because I’m deeply uninterested in football. I’m not a fan of any team, but if I had to be, it would be the Packers.

I say pop, (water) fountain, and duck duck GOOSE, but I think those may be differences based on geography rather than state lines. I think I grew up saying and hearing “casserole” and “hot dish” interchangeably, although I now prefer “hot dish” so maybe I’ve been brainwashed. 

Fish frys were never a big deal for my family. Like brandy Old Fashioneds, they were something that I learned had Wisconsin associations after I didn’t live there anymore.  

Is being from somewhere just about what we eat and drink and say? Of course not, but those are the easy things to identify and make jokes and social media and blog posts about. 

I broke my blog streak* yesterday and did not blog about any holiday. 

I didn’t blog because I was too busy “celebrating” a holiday–unfortunately, that holiday was Desperation Day**. 

Why was I so desperate? I lost my cell phone–which was bad enough–but this was the SECOND time that I had lost my phone in two years. And once again, I lost it because of my carelessness. I think it fell out of my bag–as it has done several times recently. Clearly, I had reason to think that putting my cell phone in this bag was NOT a good idea, but I kept on doing it. 

I know we all make mistakes, but I hate the feeling of making a “totally-preventable-I-could-have seen-that-coming-in fact-I’ve-done-this-before” mistake. I should at least get some new material. 

But today, I get to celebrate Valentine’s Day with feeling all sorts of warm fuzzy lovey dovey feelings for my awesome husband who rescued my phone! (as in picked it up from the very wonderful person who found it and eventually called him). Chad also handled all the details of locking my phone and setting the message to call him. I’m also filled with love for the person who returned it and the universe who reunited me with my phone, thus sparing me from more hours of self-recrimination and the expense and hassle of having to buy and learn a new phone. 

And yes, I have learned my lesson: I vow to be careful about my phone whereabouts and to NOT lose it again. I even left it at home when we went to Acme tonight. 

I hope I can at least make it to two years before I lose it again. 

*I feel bad about not meeting my challenge but if blogging 30 days in a row was easy to do, it wouldn’t be a challenge, right? So I’ll be back on the metaphorical horse (I don’t think I’ve ever been on a real horse) and onward and upward!

**Desperation Day actually has something to do with the television show “How I Met Your Mother” which I have never watched, but I reserve the right to interpret the “holidays” I blog about in whatever way inspires me, as long as it’s not too culturally inappropriate. 

I was so successful in cleaning up old files off my work computer today, that I got a “warning” email from the system alerting me that I had deleted a large number of files. 

Yes! I am the Queen of Computer Decluttering and I win National Clean Out Your Computer Day (February 12)!

It’s more accurate to say I deleted files from the cloud, but in my opinion, that still counts. I think it more than counts, as most files we access via computer are in the cloud now. 

In case you haven’t heard…2024 is the Year I Will Reach My 25th Work Anniversary. Maybe you haven’t heard, for while I seem to bring it up at every work meeting I attend, you may not be in work meetings with me. But if you have even the most casual social contact with me, or read my blog, you will hear about it. 

It’s not surprising that after almost a quarter of a century (?!–no my heart did not almost stop when writing that) I’ve accumulated a lot of files–digital, paper, mental, spiritual. And while today was not the first or only day I cleaned up my computer files, it’s still amazing how much I have amassed. 

Today I unearthed some delightful photo artifacts among the decades old meeting minutes and project charters that I now share with you. This is hardly a systematic retrospective (most photos only go back as far as 2007) but it conveys some of the different hairdos and accessories I’ve sported throughout the years.  (Yes, I still own most of these).

While I’m feeling accomplished that my work computer files are slightly streamlined, I now need to delete all the photos I just downloaded onto our Chromebook while working on this post.

I don’t think of myself as a terribly sciency person, but I literally have a Masters degree in Science, so I can celebrate that on this International Day of Women and Girls in Science. 

It’s a Master of Arts degree in Library and Information Science, but the word “science” is there. 

Despite it being my profession, I’ve never thought too hard about or really understood what the “science” aspect of Library and Information is supposed to be. Plus, having a Master of Arts in Science feels rather confusing, although I do like the idea of something being an art and a science. I tend to frequently use the “It’s an art not a science” aphorism at work to describe how there isn’t a precise formula or set of directions for handling a situation, but it may be better to think of most things as an art and a science, needing to be both prescriptive and open-ended. Not that art and science are a dichotomy, but I often use the words as shorthands to describe approaches and orientations with different focuses.

I’m definitely pro-science–especially in the global warming is real, vaccines are good, i.e. contemporary “liberal” sense. (Although liberals can get science wrong, too, or not adapt when science’s understanding of something changes). 

I’m also pro-science in the “science is cool” way. I love thinking about mind-bending ideas like the multiverse, dark matter, the mycelium network–concepts that usually end up as fodder for sci-fi entertainment. I don’t fully understand these ideas–I tend to just have a cursory understanding and glom onto what makes me feel intrigued, amazed, comforted, awestruck–often a spiritual response. When my mom was dying, I was moved and consoled by a book by physicist Paul Davies that I think had something to do with universal consciousness and time. 

I do worry that I’m not respecting the integrity of science or being intellectually honest–I just blithely take some vague “science” notions that make me feel good and get all woo–woo with them. But I’m okay with some fuzzy pseudo-science thinking as long as I’m not trying to make health decisions or advocate for policy change based on it. The most detrimental consequence of my love of pop culture science is I amass a lot of reading that I never get around to. 

I also tend to blog about topics I’m not really informed on, but blogging is definitely an art and a science.

Happy Flannel Day from me and my sherpa-lined flannel shacket!

I’ve had this shacket for almost exactly 3 months (delivered by Amazon on Nov. 9) and it has brought me immense comfort and coziness. 

However, I didn’t even know it was a “shacket” until I heard the term come up at a neighborhood bingo outing this afternoon. When I asked, “What’s a ‘shacket’ ?” I learned it’s a cross between a shirt and a jacket. I thought, “Hmmm, that sounds like my awesome flannel shirt I was planning to blog about” so I went home and looked at the history of my Amazon orders and discovered I did indeed own a shacket!

It might seem unexpected that I have loved my flannel shacket so when the winter has been crazy warm, but it’s perfect for many mornings and evenings when it’s rather chilly, or on an afternoon when the sunroom is still a little nippy. I can see myself wearing it in the early spring on walks around the neighborhood or maybe even hiking in a park. 

Wearing my shacket is like being hugged, with no social awkwardness. As I’ve said many times, I’m no fan of cold weather or winter, but I bet I will be a little wistful when I pack my shacket away for the summer. 

In fact, as I sing the praises of my shacket, I’m getting closer and closer to ordering another one through Amazon (hey, Chad’s not around to point out that the last thing in the world I need is another item of clothing). The only thing that’s really stopping me trying to decide what color to get.